All I ask of you
by Holy Roman Empire
Summary: Years after the tragedy of unspeakable horror, the Paris Opera House is open again. When the lead singer has enough harassment from her coworkers, Abigail F. Oxenstierna is asked to step in. When the new patron and the opera ghost both take an interest, what happens? Will the ghost of the past haunt the future or has he found peace in the past? USUK/Rusame. Fem America
1. Prologue

It was a dark and rainy day in Paris.

The old English man didn't even want to be in France, let alone Paris. But there was a reason to be here other than his desire to be miserable.

The opera house that burned down so many years ago was having an auction for the first time since the great fire.

The auctioneer, who to his unfortunate dismay, was French.

There was a poster of the opera Hannibal featuring La Signora Chiara Vargas, though the woman was now long dead.

There was a grand piano that was used by the composer Roderich Edelstein himself.

He was about to leave when the Frog-sorry, the Frenchman pulled out one of those Russian Nesting dolls. But this was not an ordinary doll. This one was a music box.

As the Frenchman opened it to play, a haunting melody that brought painful memories of a lively woman with hair a golden as the sun and as joyful as the sunflowers. The Englishman swore he could feel her bright blue eyes and her smile in the cold of the ruined theatre.

This time the man actually listened to what the Frenchman said.

 _"A Russian Nesting doll found in the basements of the theatre. Unlike the dolls just like it, this one is a music box as you can hear and see. Starting the bid at fifteen."_

Damn French. He raised his hand.

 _"Fifteen, do I hear twenty? Twenty."_

A elderly woman with her son? raised her hand.

 _"Twenty five?"_

Two can play that game.

 _"Thirty?"_

He stared at the woman, daring her to raise the bid. The funny thing is, he could have swore that he knew her. She must have had one of those faces where you think that you knew her but you didn't. She must have been pretty in her youth with those violet eyes.

She didn't raise the bid.

He won.

The French frog gave him his prize. The doll's face was painted with the utmost love and skill. Beautiful blue eyes, blonde waves, a smile that could charm a million men.

Oh yes. This doll's creator love his muse.

The Englishman nearly puked.

 _"And now, the final item of the auction. This very theatre. Of course there were the rumors of the Phantom of the Opera, a mystery never explained but was wonderful to gossip about,"_

Bollocks.

 _"So without further adieu, let us shed some light on the past, and to frighten away the ghost of many years ago with the future. Monsieur!"_

Suddenly all the lights in the theatre turned on at once, blinding them temporally.

Along with all of the memories of the past.

* * *

 **So the Narrator obviously doesn't like the French. I dare you to guess wrong on who it is.**


	2. Overture

**If I write a country a certain way, it does not mean that I do not like them, there just needs to be conflict.**

 **I own nothing.**

* * *

Seventy years earlier, the Paris Opera House was preparing for the first performance since it's Prima Donna, an Italian woman named Daisy Vargas, quit to marry her childhood sweetheart that grew up to become an Archduke of Germany.

Her sister, Chiara, filled her empty role. Though she had quite the temper when she was mad, she had a beautiful voice when she wasn't using sailor vocabulary at the unfortunate souls who managed to piss her off.

The ballerinas were under the watchful eye of Madam Renée Bonnefoy, the instructor of ballet and the surogate mother of one of our main characters. She was once married to a French poet and they had a daughter together but he died and she raised her daughter in ballet since she could walk. But that is not the main character.

They were almost through with final rehearsals when the owner, a man with two cowlicks and a British accent with a lot more freedom in his voice, walked in with three unusual men. The first was a Spaniard. The second was an Albino. And the third had really bushy eyebrows.

"Excuse me? Everyone?" The owner asked, trying and failing to get their attention.

No one was listening.

He locked eyes with Chiara and a silent conversation passed between them.

"EVERYONE SHUT THE HELL UP!" came an unholy screech from the woman. They knew that she had a set of lungs, but that took it to a whole knew level.

"Alright, thank you Chiara! Now I suppose that you have all heard the rumors that I am retiring. Those rumors are true."

There were a lot of groans and a few lucky people were about twenty francs per groaning person richer.

"These are the two men that are going to be co owning the theatre. Gilbert Beilschmidt and Antonio Fernandez Carriedo." he continued.

The two men bowed even though they looked ridiculous doing so. Once they stood upright, a fluffy little bird made it's perch at the top of Gilbert's head.

"And this man will be our new patron, Sir Arthur Kirkland." The owner finished.

Everyone clapped except one girl who had a faint memory of the man but could not remember exactly why.

"I hope you treat them with the same respect that you have shone me and with that, I leave for Australia. G'day mates!"

And with that, he ran for the door jumped, clicked his heels together, and landed on his face. But he jumped right back up and that is what mattered.

"I will not be staying long but I will be back tonight." Sir Kirkland left in a more gentleman way.

"Why don't we introduce you to our leading lady, Signora Chiara Vargas." The composer Roderich Edelstein suggested.

"Oh I know him! He's the damn brother of the Potato Eater!" She yelled.

"Oh you're Daisy's sister! I didn't see the resemblance." Gilbert joked.

Chiara had to be restrained to keep from killing him.

"Eres una mujer hermosa!" Antonio said. And by some gift of God, that shut her up.

"Que?" She looked like a dear in the headlights. Oh wait, those will not be invented for about seventy years give or take. Oops.

"Me escuchas senorita!" He had the nerve to smile at her.

"And Madam Renée Bonnefoy, our ballet instructor. EVERYONE, GET BACK TO WORK!" He gestured to a beautiful woman in her early forties. Her long dark hair was in a braid and her blue eyes were kind.

"Bonjour Monsieurs, I think that the three of us will have a great time untuning that piano of his."

Gilbert grinned. He might have asked her to accompany him to diner if she wasn't twenty years, give or take, his senior. Anyway, even if they were the same age, he would have thought of her as a sister.

 _Maybe she has a daughter?_

"These are the girls that I have trained in ballet."

Antonio was more focused on the Prima Donna while Gilbert's heart stopped. There in front of him doing a perfect pirouette was an angel of light. Her long blonde hair was braided into a bun at the top of her head. She moved with the grace of a million swans. Gilbird must have thought that she was amazing as well because he left his perch to fly around her head until she stopped out of confusion. Then he made his new home on her head.

"My daughter, Madeleine Bonnefoy. If you wish to have children, I suggest that you don't go anywhere near my daughter or _Je vais couper vos boules et fourrer dans votre gorge, la seule manière que vous pouvez jamais avoir des enfants n'est grâce à l'adoption."_

Gilbert didn't know French that well, but that sounded like a threat and Madam Renée's smile did not calm his nerves.

" _Maman_ , you don't have to say that. He is new and you should make him welcome, not threaten him." Her violet eyes were beautiful.

Gilbert momentarily jumped into another plain of existence and prayed for all he was worth that she was not courting anyone.

"What about la chica over there? Is she your daughter also?" Antonio asked Renée.

Renée looked to where he was looking and saw her second daughter. Well daughter in all but blood and legal issues.

Her blonde sunflower hair was also in a braid but it was just that. Her bright smile and blue eyes could easily keep the theatre lit.

"That is Abigail Oxenstierna."

The name rung a bell with the two.

"Oxenstierna? Is she of any relation to Berwald and Tiina Oxenstierna. The Swedish violinist?"

Renée nodded. "Their only child. Her mother died in her second childbirth along with the baby. After her father died when Abigail was seven, she came to live with us."

"Why you and not any other relatives, Frau?"

"Because her father's is an only child and his in laws hated him."

They were about to ask more questions when they heard a scream and a crash.

One of the curtains fell and almost crushed Chiara. She was fine physically with no injuries. Emotionally, she was livid.

Shoving off any concern coworkers, she calmly addressed everyone.

"I know that you all prefer my sister to me. Even I do at sometimes. But that does not give you an excuse to drop something on my head or constantly say that you wish my sister was here. You could have also not insulted me everyday by calling me a 'pasta eating surrender monkey'. Non si sente me voi bastardo fase di mano? Luciano si sono un bastardo che merita di marcire all'inferno! I quit, one of the chorus girls can have my part." And she ran off stage.

"With God as my witness, I swear that I did not do that!"

As she ran off, Antonio ran after her because he thought that he saw tears in her eyes.

While Roderich was aggressively playing the piano and the others were arguing about what was going to happen, Renée looked around the area that Luciano was. She was not expecting to find _him_ , but maybe he left a note.

Renée was proven right as she found an envelope on the ground with a blood red hammer and sickle sealing it. She broke the seal and read the letter.

One of the chorus girls was suggesting that they refund and move the opening night to another date when Renée interrupted.

"You think that is wise monsieur? I found a letter from the 'Opera Ghost' saying that he wishes you luck and he wants twenty thousand francs a month left in Box 5."

"Are you serious?" Words cannot describe the confusion and disbelief on Gilbert's face.

"Why not? Monsieur Jared paid him twenty thousand francs. Surly you can afford it with Sir Eyebrows as your patron."

Gilbert laughed at the nickname. "As much as I want to pay twenty thousand francs to a ghost, we can't cancel or we would have to refund."

"Why don't we have Abigail sing? She may just be a ballerina but she has been taking lessons." Madeleine offered as a suggestion.

The suggestion was so absurd that Roderich slammed his fingers on his precious piano.

"I don't have a problem with it as long as she can sing. You are in no position to find anyone else." Renée told Gilbert.

Gilbert asked the nervous girl to come up so they could hear her sing.

And when she did, the voice of an angel came out. Everyone stopped and stared at this angel of music.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

That night in Box 4, the patron of the opera house watched in fascination at this angelic beauty. With each perfect note, he remembered her more and more as part of his childhood. He couldn't believe that this was the same girl that would chase after fairytales in the woods but still run to her father for protection from the ghosts in her closet and under her bed.

Arthur Kirkland left the opera a bit early so he could find some flowers to give her.

What Arthur planned when he was a child was to marry Abigail Oxenstierna but after her father died, she left him.

Now that he found her again, he was not going to let her go.

She may not remember him, but he planned to court her arms marry her like how he wanted to when they were young.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In the shadows of Box 5, a figure was watching his masterpiece. He was so proud of his sunflower for finally getting the spotlight that she deserved.

It wasn't like he didn't like the Italian, she just wasn't his sunflower.

His sunflower was an angel in his darkness. She didn't fear him like the others, but he never showed himself to her out of fear and rejection. He was going to talk to her face to face this time.

She might even come to love him.

Different thoughts and scenarios were scrambling in his mind with different outcomes. Mostly bad than good.

As he watched, he held in his hands, a single sunflower.

* * *

 **Sorry if Romano is OOC.**

 **Je vais couper vos boules et fourrer dans votre gorge, la seule manière que vous pouvez jamais avoir des enfants n'est grâce à l'adoption-I will cut off your balls and shove them down your throat so the only way that you could ever have children is through adoption.**

 **Non si sente me voi bastardo fase di mano? Luciano si sono un bastardo che merita di marcire all'inferno!-** **Do you hear me you bastard stage hand? Luciano you are a bastard that deserves to rot in Hell!**


	3. Angel of music

**I own nothing.**

 **If I write a character a certain way, it's just because I need the conflict.**

 **A/N: There will be talk of angels, God, and heaven. I try not to offend anyone, but I just thought that I'd let you know in case you weren't a Christian or topics like that made you uncomfortable. I am a Christian so if you don't want to read about angels, you could just skip over the part where they talk about them.**

* * *

Once the show was over, everyone, the stagehands and dancers, found a bottle and celebrated for the success of the show.

Gilbert tried to look for Madeleine but she disappeared in the crowd. Antonio persuaded Chiara into coming to the show and to the surprise of many, she did. Antonio even managed to get her to genuinely smile. Something only her sister could get her to do. Chiara also brought her younger brother Romeo to watch the performance.

There was just something missing. Someone who was missing.

Abigail Oxenstierna, the new Prima Donna.

Madam Renee looked all over but she didn't find her and many young men were hoping that she would accompany them to dinner.

Luckily, there was a wallflower that knew exactly where she was.

Abigail was in the small chapel, towards the back of the opera house. There were only a few pews and a small platform for the sermon. Abigail kneeled and did the sign of the cross. While she prayed for the souls of her deceased mother and father and little Peter who didn't make it, she heard a soft, angelic voice.

" _Bravo, bravo, my sunflower..."_

Abigail smiled softly at the name her angel gave her.

"Abigail? Are you in here?" A timid voice called out.

"Yes."

"Why have you been hiding in here when you were so perfect? So, who is your tutor?" Madeleine asked playfully.

"Maddy, do you remember when your mother brought me here to live?"

Madeleine nodded.

"Well, after my mother and brother died, my father became withdrawn from the world and refused to talk to anyone but me. As if I was his sole reason for living. He told me that my mother and Peter were my guardian angels in heaven. I thought that was his way of trying to come to terms with their deaths. When my father lay dying, he told me that I would always be protected because Angels were watching over me. And they are Maddy, who do you think is teaching me to sing?"

"Abigail, do you believe? Do you believe the spirits of your family are coaching you?"

"No. I believe that it is an angel of music."

"Abigail?"

"He is in this chapel Madeleine! Can't you feel his presence?"

"Abigail, you are scaring me."

Abigail started shivering.

"Abigail, are you alright?"

"I feel really cold."

Madeleine took Abigail's hands into her own and Madeliene flinched. Abigail hands were like ice.

"Alright, let's get you somewhere warm so you can change out of your dress and into something warmer."

Abigail nodded and followed Madeleine like a lamb.

* * *

Gilbert and Antonio were having an interesting conversation with their patron.

Sir Arthur Kirkland apparently met Miss Oxenstierna before. A long time ago in London.

"Where might I find Miss Abigail?" It was quite obvious that he was anxious to meet her. Arthur had a puppy dog grin on his face and he looked like he was about to see an old friend that lived far away but was coming back to visit and possibly stay.

"You might find her in one of the dressing rooms, but I don't think that she would appreciate you barging in with a dozen roses while she is in the middle of undressing." Gilbert replied but then his face lit up as if he saw something 'awesome' as he would put it. "Oh, there's Birdie!"

Arthur turned and saw a petite blonde in a light red and white dress that just came out of the safety of the dressing rooms to the dangerous arms of Gilbert. Before the two could leave the the hallway, Arthur asked 'Birdie' where he could find Abigail.

In her quiet voice, he heard her say that if he hurried, he could go to the dressing room that she just came out of before Abigail left. She might have said something else but the Englishman was on a mission. He knocked on the door softly and waited.

Then there was a faint "I'm decent." on the other side of the door.

Arthur open the door and went in.

There she was. In a white night dress for bed, she stood holding a sunflower. Her thick golden hair was a blanket over her shoulders and middle back. She stared at him with bright blue eyes that reminded him of the sky and her cheeks were tinged pink with some embarrassment. Why would she be embarrass-oh. He was a strange man in her dressing room, not her friend like she thought, and she was worried about her virtue.

"Hello, Gayle. How is Floppsey?" He asked, hoping it would allow her to remember him.

"Monsieur?" Confusion took place of embarrassment.

"I hope he is well. I was just ten years old and soaked myself-

Recognition dawned on her soft features and a smile grew. "Because you jumped into the river to save my pet rabbit! Oh Artie!"

She flew into his arms as he dropped the roses. He picked her up and spin her around.

"I can't believe you're here in France. I know how you dislike the country."

"That is an understatement."

"Oh hush, you just don't like them because they don't speak English."

"I liked you when you were six and didn't speak English well."

"My mother taught me Finnish and my father taught me Swedish. To me, learning a new language was difficult door a six year old."

"You also have learned French. I don't see why."

"I live in France. I needed to learn French."

Arthur sighed. "So how have you been, since..."

Abigail's laughing eyes became sad. "Some days it is harder than others, but I am fine."

Arthur stood up. "You must me hungry. May I have the honor of escorting you to dinner?"

"As much as I want to say yes, I am really tired and would like to go to bed."

"Another time then?" Arthur asked. Hope burning in his eyes.

"Another time." Abigail agreed.

Abigail picked up the forgotten roses and placed them on the table. As much as she loved the roses, the sunflower was her favorite because it was given to her by her teacher.

Suddenly, a cold gust of wind blew through the theatre and the candles flickered out.

Having a fear of the dark, Abigail frantically searched for a match. Then, there was a soft glow of a candle behind her. She turned around and saw a figure holding a lantern. He was tall with pale blond hair and violet eyes. That was all she could see with the mask blocking everything else.

"Are you my teacher?" Abigail asked in a surprisingly calm voice.

"Da." He had a Russian accent.

He held out a hand to her, "Will you come with me?"

To both their surprise, Abigail took it and the masked man led her away from all she knew.

* * *

 **Alright, so you have all met the Phantom.**

 **Question of the story, who should America end up with? England or Russia?**

 **Read and review, it's my life sourse.**

 **love you all!**


	4. We've all played an organ to this song

**England:**

 **Russia: 3**

 **I own nothing.**

 **If I write a character a certain way, it's just because I need conflict.**

 **New poll if you're interested.**

* * *

The masked man led Abigail through a tunnel that attached to the catacombs under the city. After too many lefts and rights and stairs, Abigail's head began to hurt from remembering it all for an escape in case he turned out to be a murderer or a rapist or a kidnapper.

At then after taking a right down a dead end corridor, Abigail started to panic and think up a horrible scenario in her mind.

Then the man pulled on a seemingly sturdy brick and the wall opened up to a secret, and very organized apartment, under Paris.

He pulled Abigail in and closed the door.

"I want to show you something I've been working on." He went over to a table where a pile of wood and screws sat. He brought over an unpainted wooden doll. When he pulled the top back so the figurine folded in half at the waist, a soft melody played as a tiny dancer spun around.

Abigail stared in amazement.

"It's a traditional Russian Nesting Doll but I made her into a music box. Do you like it?" He asked, almost as if he was scared of her answer.

Abigail looked up to him. "I love it. Are you going to paint it?"

"I wanted to know if I could use use as a reference when I paint her. Will you?"

"Only if you tell me your name."

They had a staring contest, each daring the other to step down. Finally, he caved.

"Ivan. My name is Ivan."

"Well, Ivan, I would love to help you paint it." Abigail said feeling more comfortable with him.

Ivan and Abigail talked about the show, politics, and everything that they could think of while Ivan painted the doll. Ivan hadn't heard from Abigail in a while so he looked up from his work to find Abigail asleep on the couch. Ivan put the half finished doll and quietly walked over to where Abigail lay. He picked her up bridal style and carried her to his bed. He tucked her in and softly kissed her forehead. He saw a faint smile on her calm face as he left to sleep on the couch.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Abigail didn't know how long she was asleep, but this was the best sleep she had gotten in years. Abigail opened her eyes and saw that she was in a strange bed. From the looks of it, she was the only one that had slept in it. She heard the soft melody from the doll Ivan showed her so she got out of bed to go find him.

He was hunched over trying to get the eyes just right. And he still wore that mask.

What was the reason behind the mask? Why did he wear it so much?

"Why do you wear the mask?"

He didn't flinch like she thought he would. Ivan continued to paint the eyes and not get the result he wanted.

Out of bravery or foolishness, Abigail took off the mask.

Ivan dropped the paintbrush and immediately hid his face from Abigail's gaze.

"Abigail, I want you to give me the mask." His voice cold and demanding.

"I want to see your face without the mask. Just once." She begged.

"Someday, someday soon I promise."

Abigail hesitated.

"Now please."

Abigail gave him the mask. When he turned to face her, the damn mask was on. "I should get you back. Everyone will be concerned as to where you were."

* * *

Renee was checking into all of the girls dormitories for a headcount. Some girls were not present, maybe there were at dinner with a gentleman friend. But Abigail didn't have any gentlemen callers like Mathilde or Julchen. Yes they were her friends, but she mostly stayed on the sidelines with Madeleine.

As Renee entered the last dorm, she saw Luciano trying to scare some of the younger girls with a story about the opera ghost. They should be scared for letting him tell it to them before they went to sleep. Renee waited outside the room for Luciano to finish or for them to get frightened, whatever came first.

When Luciano started saying how he would come into the night with a noose to kill whoever wasn't asleep, she interfered. Renee slapped him for scaring the girls who would now stay up all night. She didn't know how, but she knew that Luciano would get what was coming to him.

* * *

 **Ok, read and review. Vote Rusame or USUK.**

 **Love you all.**


	5. Notes

**England: 1**

 **Russia: 3**

 **I own nothing.**

 **If I write a character a certain way, it's just because I need conflict.**

 **New poll if you're interested.**

* * *

The next day, Gilbert and Antonio were in high spirits.

Gilbert had successfully snuck Madeleine out and back in the theatre under Renee's nose. He was so happy that he found his Birdie and that she was just as awesome as him. Gilbert never thought of marriage before but now it didn't seam so bad.

Antonio was in heaven. Chiara spoke two full sentences at dinner last night. She was finally opening up to him and Antonio was so full of excitement that he felt he would burst.

And then that moment ended when they walked into their office.

On their desk, was an envelope, with a blood red hammer and scythe.

Damn.

* * *

Renee found Abigail looking tired and wide awake. As strange as that was, what was even stranger was that she had a note in her hand with a blood red hammer and scythe.

Merde.

* * *

Arthur Kirkland woke up with a plan. He would attend each and everyone of the plays, operas, and ballets until Abigail would agree to go to dinner with him. Maybe last night was not the best night because of the performance, but he was the patron and the Patron and the Prima Donna would be good publicity for the theatre.

Plus, it would be nice to have Abigail thinking that he was the greatest boy in the world along with her father again. She was a stubborn child and a loud mouth in her native language, but when it came to speaking to him in English, she became very shy.

Arthur was about to leave the estate he was staying in, until he could go back to London, when one of the maids came up to him and handed him a note. He almost set it aside when he saw the seal that kept it from spilling its contents.

A blood red hammer and scythe.

Bloody hell.

* * *

"I assure you gentlemen, that I did not leave the note!"

"Then who did? And for the love of God, do note say the Opera Ghost did. There is already to much nonsense about it."

"The Opera Ghost is-

"Who sent me a note insisting on my staying away from Gayle?" Arthur Kirkland rushed into the office red fced and livid.

"Who?"

"Miss Oxenstierna. What is so bad about my seeing Miss Oxenstierna?"

"She should be focusing on important issues other than courting, Sir Kirkland. And since when are you so friendly with my daughter? If I recall correctly you met yesterday for only a moment."

Arthur was about to protest. They were childhood sweethearts.

"What did your note contain Gilbert?"

He mumbled it and at her wits end, Renee snatched the note to read it herself.

"Gilbert, I would listen to the Ghost if I were you. Unless you want your manhood cut off, I suggest you don't sneak out with my Madeleine again." Renee was plotting one hundred different ways to separate Gilbert's head from his body.

"Mine just said that I was doing a good job of separating love from work."

"No one cares Antonio. Anyway, Abigail and I will marry one day. We were childhood sweethearts."

"what is your plan Romeo? Waltz up to her and say, 'Hey remember me? We were kids together. Will you marry me?" Renee snarked.

"Now that you mentioned it, yes." Arthur sasses back.

"That's a terrible idea! If the Opera Ghost wants you to stay away, you need to stay away!"

"I don't give a damn about ghost. They don't exist. Gentlemen, m'lady, I bid thee a good day." Arthur left.

"He needs to watch his back or he's going to be in trouble."

* * *

Meanwhile, the Ghost heard the whole discussion. He wouldn't let that stuck up Englishman steal his sunflower. He didn't know Abigail like he did. He didn't comfort Abigail when she cried in the chapel by herself for many years after her father died. He didn't teach her how to sing. He was not there for her when her friends went on dates with their lovers and she was left alone at the theatre.

The point of the matter was this: 'Sir Arthur Kirkland' was not going to marry his precious sunflower. He would do anything for his sunflower. Even kill.

* * *

Abigail know that she was being watched at she and her fellow ballerinas practiced for the performance that they were going to put on the week before Christmas.

She looked out into the audience and she made eye contact with Arthur in the front row. Abigail didn't know if she was pleased to see him or if she was uncomfortable because of her night with Ivan. They'd didn't do anything scandalous but spending the night with a man she wasn't married to was enough to label her as a whore.

And yet, she wouldn't traded it for the world. She turned away and danced. He would think that she was dancing for him. She really danced for Ivan.

* * *

 **Ok, read and review. Vote Rusame or USUK.**

 **Love you all.**


	6. All I ask of you

**England: 2**

 **Russia: 7**

 **I own nothing.**

 **If I write a character a certain way, it's just because I need conflict.**

 **New poll if you're interested.**

* * *

It was an hour before the theatre's next performance and everyone backstage were double and triple checking the sets, the props, and that the instruments were tuned and sounded perfect.

The ballerinas did warmups to prepare for their dance. And much to the annoyance of Madeleine, Gilbert kept flirting with her when she wanted to practice. His form of encouragement was saying that she did not need to practice, she was already perfect. Which resulted in Madeleine getting even more nervous that she originally was and crying into Gilbert's shoulder.

Abigail was avoiding Arthur by hiding in the area he would not think to check: up in the loft where the stagehands were. Luciano, Jean, and Romano were...something.

Romano, always the tsundere, hated everyone but with Abigail, it was more of a "let's judge other people together and drink the liquor that I swiped from Jean" kind of thing. Their friendship made no sense and no one could figure it out but in a way, Romano took his place as her protective older brother and she took her role as his innocent little sister. Again it made no sense, who would let their sister drink liquor?

Jean didn't care about anyone or anything. The only reason he was here was to make money for his next drink and a "lady friend."

Luciano was a flirt that started out as sweet but quickly turned into a very demanding flirt. And he had his sights on Abigail. So while Abigail was turning to her "Big Brother" for protection Luciano was flirting with her. The flirting ended when Romano threatened to kill Luciano if he so much as touched his sister and many colorful swear words that would send this story's rating up a few bars.

Not trusting Luciano or Jean to make sure that she got to her place safely and on time, Romano took her himself. It was a good thing too. Because with Jean in one of his drunken blackouts, there was no one to witness Luciano's death.

* * *

Arthur finally resigned to the fact that he could not see Abigail before the performance started so he proceeded to come up with a plan to speak with the woman of his affections afterwards.

The curtain rose and Abigail danced with some of the girls he recognized that were her friends. Her very loud and obnoxious friends.

Arthur was mesmerized from the dancing beauty. She twirled with such grace and fluidity she seamed as if she was truly the Swan Princess. Arthur could barely contain a growl when he saw Abigail in the arms of the man who played the Prince.

And then a body fell from the rafters and landed in front of the swan that Gilbert was currently fascinated with.

She screamed, Abigail screamed, the audience screamed, everyone screamed.

Arthur saw Abigail, and the other girls but they did not matter to him, run off the stage. Being the gentleman he was, and hoping to score a few good points with Abigail, ran after her to comfort her and assure her that he would protect her from whoever murdered the man.

He found Abigail, after many failed attempts in other areas, clutching the rabbit her mother made for her trying so hard not to freak out and cry but failing.

Arthur pulled her into his arms and held her as she cried. When she finally calmed down enough to form sentences, she whispered a soft thank you.

"It is no trouble, love. I'll be here whenever you need me." _I will always be here._

"I should get back..."

"You could stay." _I want you to stay._

"I really should go back. Renee and Madeleine will be searching for-"

"Marry me."

"I'm sorry. What?"

"I want you to marry me. Please say that you will marry me."

Abigail shook his arms off of her and stepped back.

"Are you out of your damn mind? Are you seriously proposing to me after we just witnessed a death?"

"It would be quite the story for our children when they ask how I proposed to their mother."

Abigail stared at him in disbelief. "I want you to think very hard and answer truthfully. Who long have we known each other?"

"Since childhood."

"No. A couple months. What will people think if we marry?"

"That we're in love?"

"No. They will assume that I am pregnant with your child and label me as a slut."

"No they will not!"

"Ohhhhhhhhhhoh yes they will! Think about it. You, the patron, and me, a dancer have known each other for less than four months then decide to marry out of the blue. That may be the way you do things in London, but not in Paris."

"If that is the case, I will ask again the next month."

"I will refuse."

"I will continue to ask until you agree."

"I am sorry to disapoint you, but no." Abigail fled with her stuffed rabbit sill in her grasp.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Arthru read in the newspaper the following morning. The police ruled Luciano Berone's death as a suicide.

* * *

Ivan felt sad that he made his sunflower cry and the guilt turned to jealousy when he saw the Brittish man comfort _his_ sunflower.

He didn't feel any guilt in pushing the man from the loft. The man flirted with his sunflower and made her uncomfortable. Ivan decided that he liked the other man, the one that protected his sunflower when he could not. The one that called her his sister and took her away from the dead man.

He heard the Englishman propose to Abigail and her rejection to his offer.

Ivan hooped that the the real reason that she rejected him was because of him. He loved Abigail and he did not want to lose her to anything.

Ivan felt something else.

He felt pride.

* * *

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	7. Wishing you were somehow here again

**England: 2**

 **Russia: 10**

 **Neither: 3**

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* * *

It was the new year and the entire theatre company were throwing a party to celebrate. Just them and no one from outside the theatre because theatre people are the most energetic and normal people could not handle their parties.

Nothing really very exciting happened other than Abigail refusing to marry Arthur which led to Arthur getting drunk and proclaiming his love for Abigail. Embarrassing her and himself, causing a good laugh for everyone else.

* * *

Abigail woke up early on the last weeks of May. Romano was going to escort her to the docks so she could return to Sweden and visit her family's graves. It was just a few hours before dawns when Romano came to collect her bags. And with great reluctance, resigned to the fact that she wanted to travel alone. Just as long as she was certain and safe and he didn't have to deal with idiots. They said their goodbyes and Abigail sailed for the home she left behind so many years before.

He got back to the theatre as Notre Dame's bells stuck eight to find the English bastard demanding to know where Abigail was and saying that "away" and "not here" were not proper answers. Renee was just as stubborn as hell like Romano. He knew she wouldn't talk, so Romano just ignored the two adults and went back to bed.

* * *

Abigail arrived in Stockholm, Sweden the day before the sixth of June. She rented a room for the night, proud of herself that she didn't stumble speaking her native language after years of not speaking it. She knew no one else that spoke Swedish or Finnish so there was no way she could have a conversation without having to translate it to French.

Being back in her native country, she thought about the last time she had a family. That her parents and she were all together.

It was almost Christmas and her mother was almost nine months along with her brother. Her daddy was playing the violin while her mother sang some traditional songs from Finland. Abigail was so excited to be a big sister.

Her mother had great difficulty giving birth to her brother and after many long hours, Peter was stillborn and her tired mother mother died from exhaustion and blood loss.

They buried mother and Peter in daddy's country instead of Finland because he wanted to be buried next to his wife and child when he died. Not in another country far away. And taking their bodies to Sweden was also his way of saying "Piss off" to her parents, which was a bonus.

She never did understand her grandparents strong dislike of her father. He was big and strong and protected her mommy. He provided for her and her mother with his violin and carpentry skills. Her father was the most gentle man that Abigail had ever known.

When she sat by her fathers side as he died, he explained why there was a woman there. He told her that she was going to live with Renee and her daughter Madeleine in France. Abigail cried that she didn't want to go to France, she wanted to stay with him.

"I love you, my darling joy." Were the last words her father ever spoke to her.

Abigail refused to speak for weeks and when she did, she spoke in either Finnish or Swedish as to not forget her heritage. Madeleine was the only one to make the effort to talk to her in the different languages which led to Abigail reluctantly learning French so she could teach Madeleine her languages.

It did not work out and they just stuck with French as their form of communication.

Abigail arrived at the cemetery at around nine in the following morning. Passerbys gave her looks of pity as she entered alone. In the back of the cemetery, were three gravestones.

Berwald Bjorn Oxenstierna, died June sixth, age twenty nine. Loving father and husband, reunited with his love in heaven.

Tina Freya Oxenstierna, died December twenty fifth, age twenty four. Beloved wife and mother, she now sings with the Angels.

Peter Erik Oxenstierna, died December twenty fifth, newborn. A lost treasure of earth, but found by the King.

Abigail, who had held her tears in for so long, broke down sobbing at foot of the graves. She cried for their short lives, for what was, and what could have been. She wished that her family never left her here all by herself.

But, if they were here, she would never have met Ivan.

She probably would have been married off to Sir Kirkland or someone else of the sort. She began to imagine a life with Kirkland. After all, he did say that he wanted to marry her. But proposing after witnessing a suicide was not the best plan. He would be a good husband, Abigail did not doubt that. If he still loved her like he says he does when he proposes, he definitely would not have Abigail doubting his love for her. He would be a great father, if they had any children. And even if they did, Abigail hoped to God that they would not have to inherit his eyebrows. Even though she secretly thought that they were cute on him.

"Are you alright, miss?" A voice made her jump.

It was an older man in his fifties. He had spectacles and receding blond hair. Abigail thought that he must have been handsome in his youth.

"Yes. I am well, thank you."

The man looked at the graves. ''Are these your parents?"

"Yes, and my brother."

"I am so sorry." He paused out of respect before continuing.

"I knew your parents. I wanted to marry Tina when we were younger, but she chose your father. When we were younger, your parents and my brothers and I would always play Viking games. Your father was the Viking and we were the villagers that he would raid. Your mother would then 'marry' him and joint him in his raids. You have her nose and her cheekbones. You also have your father's eyes and blond hair."

"I am scared to say that I am forgetting them. I pray to God for their souls everyday. I couldn't remember what color my mother's eyes were a few weeks ago. They were some form of purple, but that was all I knew. I don't want to forget"

"I had a son and he died as well. For a while I forgot what his favorite color was. It was green."

"There is a man who is asking me to marry him. Aside from asking me to marry him every time he sees me, he is a decent man and is kind. He reminds me of the sun or one of those knights that you read about in fairytale. There is another man that I think I am in love with, but he mostly stays in the shadows. He reminds me of a mysterious wizard or the night. I was wondering what you think I should do since you are a father and I lost mine."

"My dear, you are going to have to make the choice yourself. You know what these men are like and I do not. You strike me as a Christian woman who would like stability in her future yet wants her freedom. I would choose the man that you love but will also respect your wishes."

"Thank you. I have to get going. I didn't catch your name. What is it?"

"My name is Eduard Von Brok. And who might you be?"

"Abigail Oxenstierna. Thank you for the talk. I needed it."

* * *

Arthur wondered around in a daze. Seeing Abigail was the highlight of his days and he neither knew nor cared what happened because Abigail was not here to either tell him a joke when he was not asking for her hand, or hesitating when she told him no. With each month, it seemed that she was warming up to him and she had a bit of hesitation before she gave him her rejection.

It was nearly two months before she came waltzing back into his life. She seemed paler and more happy than he had ever seen her around the theatre.

Arthur didn't care that it was not proper. He ran to her with open arms and helded her close like a man would do with his lover. He picked her up in front of everyone and spun her around. He even got a giggle out of her.

"You're back!" He breathed, not yet believing that she was back after her long absence.

"Yes. I was in Sweden. I regret not telling anyone but Renee and Romano thought that it was best."

"I trust that you had a safe journey."

"I did. I even met an old friend of my mother. He told me some stories about my parents when they were younger." Abigail informed him.

"As much as I would love asking you to marry me right now, I will not because I know the answer. I will ask you again, just not for a while. Until then, I will try to court you like a gentleman would a lady."

"Thank you Arthur. I have not eaten today and I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to dinner."

"That sounds lovely. Shall we meet in an hour for you to settle back in?"

"Yes please."

She walked off with her bag leaving Arthur to feel like he was the king of the world.

* * *

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	8. All I Ask of You (reprise)

**England: 2**

 **Russia: 10**

 **Neither: 3**

 **I own nothing. Nineteen reviews are awesome.**

 **If I write a character a certain way, it's just because I need conflict.**

 **New poll if you're interested.**

 **Last chapter was for the USUK shippers as an apology because from now on it's Rusame. Russia wins and it looks like you would rather have Abigail end up with no one over England. Haha. I'm joking. They're both awesome but not as awesome as Prussia.**

* * *

It was a trap.

Arthur proposed to her in front of the whole damn restaurant with witnesses. And Abigail did not hold back as to what she thought of him.

Abigail left leaving him to pay and stormed to her room.

On her way down the lonely corridor, a hand reached out of the shadows and pulled her in.

Just as she was about to come to turns with her own tragic murder, Arthur would be number one suspect as he killed her in a fit of rage for refusing his proposal, or that she didn't tell Ivan that she loved him, silver hair shone through the dark.

Wait.

She loved Ivan?

She loved Ivan.

She loved Ivan!

Oh what the hell. She loved Ivan.

"Ivan." She breathed a sigh of relief as she was not going to die.

"Why did you not tell me you were going away?"

"We never talked about a time or a place to meet up or exchange letters or anything. And I cannot remember the way to your secret lair."

He was silent before he whispered, "I missed you."

"I missed you as well."

Ivan pulled her closer into his arms like he was about to singlehandedly protect her from the rest of the world.

"I love you." Abigail whispered so softly Ivan almost missed it.

Once he registered what she had said, his heart fluttered. And he felt all nervous inside. And he whispered the same three words that have the power to reassure one that the are not alone in their feelings. _I love you._

And he said them with such tenderness and love that what ever Abigail felt for him increased tenfold.

He took her hands in his and kissed them with such softness, if she did not see it for her own eyes, Abigail would not have known he had kissed her.

"From now on, we could leave letters in Box 5. No one goes there, it's taboo. And perhaps once a month you could meet me there at midnight."

"People would get suspicious if I were to go up to Box 5."

"But no one would dare follow, my precious sunflower."

"Arthur Kirkland would. He does not believe in ghost or superstitions."

"Abigail, do you love Arthur?"

"No. Of course not."

"Do you love me?"

"More than anything."

"Then you have nothing to worry about. I will take care of you from the shadows as long as long as we both shall live."

"Ivan, I want to see you without your mask. I mean it this time."

Before Ivan could deny her, Abigail took off the mask.

She thought that he was hiding a burn or a scar. It was neither. There wasn't a blemish on his face. His very handsome face. His purple eyes were wide with shock and his pale cheeks were turning a very dark red from embarrassment.

Then Abigail put her hands on his broad shoulders and stood on her tippy toes and gave him a chaste kiss.

It was her first kiss and she was glad to give it to Ivan. When she pulled back, he turned an even darker shade of red.

"I think that you look very handsome without your mask. You should take it off more often."

She kissed him on the cheek and she left to go to her room and giggle like a school girl while Madeleine showed up an hour later with messy hair instead of her usual neat curls.

She got very flustered once Abigail asked how things were going with Gilbert.

* * *

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	9. Giry's tale

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* * *

All thoughts of Abigail consumed his mind. He dreamed of her as his wife when he slept and was disappointed when he woke up and his darling love was not there. He also dreamed of other things that were naughty and should be saved for his marriage to her.

Arthur could not get her out of his mind. She was like a parasite. A beautiful, warm, lovely parasite.

Arthur swore that he would marry the woman he loved. Even if he had to force her down the isle.

* * *

The letters that Abigail received from Ivan were so full of love and passion and promisses that she would want for nothing. If she wanted the moon, he would give it to her.

Abigail would write him back letters that were equally as loving adding some of the gossip that was happening around the old theatre.

Abigail was on good terms with Chiara and was the first she told of her marriage to Antonio. Abigail was happy for her friend.

When Gilbert announced that he was going to marry Madeleine, Renee freaked out and it took Antonio, Arthur, and Lovino to pull her off Gilbert. After a threat to Gilbert about how, when boiled down without the swears and in English, meant that if he hurt her in any way, she would kill him.

Gilbert then proceeded to state how it would be unawesome if he hurt his Birdie.

As Abigail finished writing her letter, Madeleine peaked over her shoulder.

"Is it your mystery lover?"

Abigail jumped ten feet in the air because Madeleine startled her.

"What do you mean?"

"I think you know what I mean. You always go up to Box Five when you think no one is watching you and when you come back down you are always smiling."

"So what if I am? I am not doing anything wrong. And you are the only one that has seen me."

"You need to be careful. If Arthur finds you up there alone, well, Gilbert said that Arthur really wants to marry you."

"I am aware of that." Abigail got up to leave.

"Abigail, please be careful."

Abigail gave her a smile and left.

* * *

Ivan was waiting for her when she arrived. He was not wearing his mask this time, much to Abigail's delight. He game her a sweet kiss on her fore head and then proceeded to her lips. When they pulled away, Ivan asked her a question.

"I know that we haven't had the best courtship, but will you runaway and marry me?"

Now if it was Arthur asking her, she would have screamed and shouted at him until she was red in the face and hoarse. But with Ivan, het heart felt like it would leap out of her chest and burst with joy. Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded yes so quickly her head might as well fall off.

Ivan pulled out a small ring that was on a necklace of leather.

"It was my sister's ring. She gave it to me before we were separated so that I would always think of her. Now I want you to have it." He wrapped the string of leather around her neck.

It was a long enough cord that Abigail could hide it in her corset should anyone see it.

"I have to go now, they'll suspect something is wrong. I love you."

"I will meet you here tomorrow at midnight. I love you Abigail." He kissed her more passionately and then they went their separate ways.

What the two engaged lovers had yet to realize was that a man who was also in love with Abigail was outside the Box and heard everything. His green eyes filled with fury and hurt as he heard his love say the three words that he wanted to hear to another man.

It was in that moment he realized that Abigail was never going to be his. And Arthur Kirkland was not going to take that sitting down.

* * *

"I need you to tell me everything about the Opera Ghost." Arthur stormed into Renee's office.

What Renee thought she was going to hear out of Arthur's mouth was not that.

She blinked. "Pardon moi?"

"You know exactly what I said Renee. I want to know everything about this ghost."

"I thought that you said that you didn't believe in ghosts." Renee said with a smirk.

"I don't. I just want to hear the story about him. You seem to know what is going on in his head. I want to know what I have to do to free Abigail from the iron grip he has her trapped in."

Renee's eyes were slits now, piercing into his soul. As if she was protecting a closely guarded secret.

Arthur has grown up with four older brothers, he could win this staring contest.

He won.

"Very well. Only you have to listen to me without any interruptions. Not one word out of you or I don't speak. And you can never repeat what you hear from me to anyone. Not Abigail. Not even my own daughter Madeleine."

Arthur nodded.

"It was many years ago."

 _A eighteen year old Renee was sneaking out of the opera house to go visit the gypsies. They only came once every ten years and she did not want to miss them. She pulled her coat tighter to her body. It was going to snow later. She could feel it._

 _Once she got near the camp on the edge of the city, she could see them dancing. A beautiful girl that had to have been at least fifteen danced around the fire with such grace and her jewelry jingled every time she moved. She had beautiful shoulder length silver hair and a kind smile. Renee envied her for her generous chest._

 _There was also a younger girl that must have been around six with longer silver hair. She could have been the older girls sister but she looked mean. There was a boy that had to be around the same age. He did not have a scowl on his face like the other girl. He shared the two girls hair and the older one's smile. He might have been a nice boy but he was so creepy looking._

 _Once the sister was done dancing, she took off her necklace and put her ring on it and gave it to her brother. She then proceeded to pull her siblings into the dance with her._

 _Then the police came. Renee watched as some gypsies were captured and some ran. The older sister was taken away. Renee didn't know what happened to the other one but as the boy tried to escape, one of the officers hit him with the butt of their gun possibly leaving a very nasty bruise before he went to round up some other gypsies._

 _With no one watching her or the boy, Renee ran to him and pulled him into the bushes and covered him with her coat._

 _They hid until it was nearly dawn._

 _Renee took him back to the Opera House through one of the back doors that let to the prop celler. With the dawn shedding light on the shadows and the streets, Renee could see that the poor little gypsy boy had an ugly bruise on his left cheek and a split lip that had stopped bleeding from the cold morning air._

 _"My name is Renee and I am going to help you."_

 _The boy nodded like he understood and he followed her as she picked up a mask and led him to a room where she cleaned off some of the blood._

 _Renee winced as she saw what the boys blood had hidden. His cheek and lip were swollen and were very dark shades of black, blue, and purple. This boy was so young, he should not have experienced this just because of what he was. Most people enjoyed it when the gypsies came. Why did this child have to suffer for the hate the others harbor in their hearts?_

 _"Ivan." The boy spoke in a timid whisper. Then he must have said thank you in...Russian? Near that country, perhaps?_

 _Renee dried his cheek and wrapped some bandages around his head in case it started to bleed again._

 _Renee then took him to one of the empty room that she was sure no one would go to and she put the boy in there. She tucked him in and she kissed his fore head gently like her mother used to do to her, then she sang a French folk song to help him sleep. She wasn't the best singer but she wasn't terrible, and she congratulated herself on getting him to sleep._

 _Months passed, the swelling went down and the bandages came off. He was fine except for that large bruise. Renee put the mask on him. As he started to protest, she told him it was just to hide the ugly bruise._

 _Renee would check on it monthly as the rest of the theatre slept soundly. They boy was very shy and eventually, he didn't let her take the mask off. He wouldn't let her._

 _The next night, Renee went to check on him, he was gone._

 _Except for a note with a hand drawn scythe and hammer._

 _It explained to her that he went to live in the catacombs of Paris but he would be near in case he needed to see his older sister._

 _Older sister? His sisters were gone but...her?_

 _The boy with nothing, considered her as a sister?_

 _She considered him as her son but little brother was acceptable as well._

 _He visited the night before she married Francis and told her that if he broke her heart, he would regret it._

 _He visited her after her she gave birth to Madeleine. He held her close to his heart and whispered that she was going to grow up beautiful and strong like her mother. His, not biological, beautiful little niece._

 _He visited Renee when her husband died. She held him tight and cried._

 _He visited years later when she brought home a lovely sunflower from Sweden. Her parents died and Renee knew them so she took their daughter._

 _Ivan stayed close by Abigail and it broke his heart to hear such crying from a little girl. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her he knows what she is going through. He lost his sisters just like she with her parents. But he couldn't. Not yet._

"So he became her 'guardian angle' and he knows her more than I ever could possibly understand. They are...bonded. They are kindred spirits. I wouldn't say soul mates but they are very close. If you want to have Abigail, they way that you tried to achieve her was not the way to go. She is not the little girl you had a longing for when you were a child. She has gone through things that no child should ever have to experience. She lost her parents."

"I did to."

"But you had brothers. She lost hers the night her mother died. Her father never remarried before he died, so she had no stepmother. She was entirely and utterly alone. That is the difference with you and Abigail, yet the similarity between Abigail and Ivan. They understand one another on a level that they don't even realize. You and Abigail are just strangers. I would advise you to leave her alone and not pursue her again."

As Arthur left, he felt pity for the ghost.

He did not go to Box 5 the night that Abigail was going to leave him for good.


	10. Ice ice baby

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* * *

As Abigail waited in the dark in Box 5, she wondered what she should expect in a married life with Ivan. They had agreed to run away with each other, but Ivan did not mention as to where they were going to runaway to. Abigail had always desired to visit America. Perhaps that was where Ivan and she where going to run off to.

Another matter was children. How many? Boy or girl? How were they to support them? Although, Ivan has collected money from the theatre owners over the years, they could live off that if they were smart. What would they look like? Maybe a sweet little girl with Ivan's pale blond hair and her blue eyes, or a little boy with his father's violet eyes and pale hair with his mother's personality. Then there was a matter of names. Abigail liked Alfred or Matthew for a boy. Ivan could pick the names he wanted for the girls.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and Abigail let out a short sqeak and whispered "Ghost!"

Ivan chucked. "How did you know it was me?"

"I didn't. You scared me."

"You should have been paying attention."

"I was but then I started thinking about where we would go and the children and who they would take after and, why are you smiling?"

"Just thinking of a sweet little girl that takes after her mother, that's all. We should go if we don't want to get caught." Ivan took her hand and led her away.

They walked in silence down the empty street.

"Ivan, could it be possible that we wait to runaway? We are in the middle of a production and I-

"Of course we can wait. Anything for you, my sunflower. I want you to be happy."

"Thank you Ivan. When it is done, I could say that I need a holiday and we could go then."

Ivan nodded in agreement.

They reached a small church and went inside. They saw the Priest finishing up the midnight mass and decided to wait until Father Feliciano was alone.

After a few agonizing moments, they approached the Father.

"Father Feliciano, would you please marry us? Right now?" Abigail asked sweetly.

The Priest looked between the two of them. Mostly at Abigail because Ivan scared him.

"Ve, why do you want to get married in the middle of the night? Don't you want to have a wedding where all you family and friends are celebrating with you?"

"Father, I'm afraid that we don't have any family and we just want a quiet wedding." Ivan explained.

"We want to have a small wedding with God as our witness." Abigail added.

A small group of nuns walked in.

"My dear child, God will always be your witness, whether you have a grand wedding or a small one. I'll marry you two. Sister Alice, will you keep me from being disturbed?"

A short nun with larger than normal eyebrows nodded and led the rest of the sisters out.

And so, Ivan and Abigail exchanged their vows under a stain glass window of Jeanne d'Arc, with only two witnesses: Father Feliciano and God.

* * *

To say that Arthur was surprised to see that Abigail was at rehearsals the following days after he thought her to leave him forever, was an understatement. Granted, he hid his feelings well and didn't run up to her and spin her around like she was a doll. Oh no, that would be much too ungentlemanly. And it certainly did not take various threats from Renee and Antonio and Gilbert working together to pull him off her. Oh no. That never happened.

Yes it did and Arthur is not allowed to be in the same room as her.

Then Mathias broke his leg and they were forced to cancel the production until his leg will be good enough to move again.

It was about two months into her marriage with Ivan when Abigail noticed something was wrong.

She was late.

As Abigail was internally panicking, Madeleine came up to her with a shiny diamond ring on her finger. Showing the world that she was now no longer a chorus girl, but a Lady married to Gilbert.

"I'm pregnant." Madeleine whispered to Abigail.

"How can you tell?" Maybe Abigail herself was pregnant.

"I was late and oh my goodness, mother is going to kill Gilbert! She said that she didn't want grandchildren until we were married a year!" Madeleine was stressing over telling her mother.

"Madeleine, listen to me, I want you to take a deep breath. Your mother will not make you a widow. She may want to, but she will not. Not unless she wants her grandchild to be without a father." Abigail reasoned.

"Alright, Gilbert and I will tell her tonight."

Madeliene went to find her husband just as Abigail went to find hers.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"I think I may be pregnant."

Ivan stared at her in shock. There was his sunflower, his wife, telling him that she may be pregnant.

"Please say something, anything."

"I, I am overwhelmed, how can I possibly say something that can't fit all the words that I want to express when I know that they will never match the feelings I have? I am happy! I am nervous, I am surprised, I am scared that I will not be good enough for the little one and everyday I have fell more in love with you than before, but now that we are going to have a child? This is the most that I have ever loved you and this doesn't even compare with tomorrow!"

Ivan kissed his wife, now crying tears of joy.

"I don't think that I'll show until about two months. We could go to Sweden until the baby is born. I would like to visit my mother and brother's graves for Christmas. I will need to be back because they will not change the cast or let anyone drop out. So I am stuck in the play."

"Don't worry my love, after the performance, we'll take the baby and finally run away."

Ivan gave her one last kiss before she had to go back to the world of theatre.


	11. Point of no Return

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* * *

Madeleine knew that something was wrong with her sister. She was being secretive and she was paler. She was not eating like she should and yet, she was still the same shape.

A little rounder than usual, but still the same shape. Abigail had also taken to wearing heavy clothing in the middle of August while requesting for at least six months of absence for a visit to Sweden, which Madeleine found odd.

That would mean setting the Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet back until March.

Madeleine was finding out that her mother was not as protective of her as she is with her grandchild.

With five months down and four more to go, Madeleine was giddy to the point of breaking out into hysterics because her damn husband's German baby was making her crave an unhealthy amount of wurst and sauerkraut. She can't drink wine to wash out the taste and for some reason, Arthur's scones are the best tasting pastries on the whole damn planet.

The first time she tried it, it was like heaven's choir of Angels were singing of how good the scones were.

Of course, Gilbert claimed that Arthur was trying to murder his wife and child with his horrendous cooking and tried to take the scone from Madeleine. Poor boy barely escaped with all of his fingers.

 _'I want a scone. All this thinking about scones has made me want a scone. I like the word scone. Scone, scone,scone,scone, scone. What rhymes with scone? Alone? Abigail seams lonely, but she has her angel so she seams happy. Maybe that is what I will name my child. Angel, Angela, Angelica, something to do with an angel. I love my husband, I love him so much that maybe I'll share a blanket with him, he must get cold. I like summer. Oh merde, someone is talking to me! Time to nod and ack like I was listening. Nod up and down. How do I escape? I could say that the baby is coming. No, I'll save that for later. Then I'll really freak them out. Hahaha, I am so funny. Oh shit, they just asked a question. What do I do? WHAT DO I DO?'_

"I am terribly sorry Arthur, but could you repete the question?" Madeleine asked sweetly. _I want food._

"Why does Abigail dislike me so?" He looked so torn up. _Soooooo many reasons Arthur. So many reasons._

"You come off as a possible yandere when it comes to her. You don't know when to stop. You asked for her hand in marriage within two days of knowing her, and yet you pride yourself on being a gentleman. Where is the romance that you claime is between you? Because I don't see it."

He looked down as if deep in thought. _Truth hurts, doesn't it? If I had a son, I wouldn't name him Arthur. Matthew, James, Jean Valjean, no I'm not going to name him after a convict. I could name him Enjolras..._

* * *

Time flew by. Abigail returned, as Juliet and as bright as the sun, yet tired looking. As if she hasn't had much sleep.

Abigail pulled Madeleine aside into one of the abandoned rooms and shut the door.

"Abigail, what was going on that you had to spend five months in Sweden? Do you know how much I worried for you and not one letter?"

Abigail at least had the decency to look ashamed.

"Not everything could be explained in a letter."

"Then how could it be explained?"

"A book, two staged productions, and a skilled composer with a knighthood."

If Abigail was being funny, Madeleine was not laughing.

"I am terribly sorry and I want you to know the truth. I have eloped to the love of my life and we have been blessed with a daughter, whom we love with our entire beings. It kills me to stay away from her during the day. I want you to know that Ivan and I will be leaving tonight after I drink the poison and 'die'. I just want you to know about my daughter Anastasia Juneau Braginsky. We are going to America in the morning and I do not believe that we will be coming back." Abigail summerized in the most simple way possible.

"Well, I guess what is done is done. I was hoping that you would want to meet your godson before you left for good. I am rather surprised you have managed to avoid such a meeting." Madeleine accepted without question.

Abigail was her own person and if she wanted to run away with her secret husband and daughter, she was going to.

"What did you name him?"

"Alphonse Hugo Beilschmidt. He takes after his father mostly. He will not stop crying unless Gilbert or I am holding him. Gilbert should be holding him. What about your daughter?"

"She is the quietest baby. She has her father's eyes and my blonde hair. Sometimes I..."

And the two prattled on and on about their children.

* * *

Jean was carrying some swords to the stage when he heard two women gossiping about their children. He would have usually ignored the useless chatter of women, but this was Abigail. The woman that had the heart and soul of the patron. And she had a daughter? Naughty naughty...

 _Oh Arthur will enjoy this._

And Arthur did.

So much that he trashed his office.

Jean walked away thinking of how he could punish the whore for breaking the patron's heart.

 _If she plays Juliet, why doesn't she die like Juliet?_

* * *

Ivan was in Box 5 for the last time holding his daughter in his arms. He watched as his wife and Mathias performed as Romeo and Juliet.

He was not pleased about their kiss, but it was chaste, and Abigail had given her heart to Ivan long ago just like Ivan gave his heart to her as well.

But something did not feel right as she drank the 'poison'.

Little Anya started to squirm and try to cry for her mother but she was shushed by her father. For now, she resigned herself to silent tears.

He was proven right when she did not wake up after Romeo died. The Friar, Timothy, tried to discreetly shake her. When she wouldn't wake, he checked her pulse.

The theatre was silent as Renee rushed out to try and wake her as well.

"MY GOD! SHE'S DEAD!" Her scream if anguish was nothing compared to the cry of Ivan's or Arthur's.

And even then, theirs were no match to the infant cry of a child who has lost her mother.

Ivan is on the verge of the abyss, and his anchor to sanity now lies in the motherless, crying infant in his arms.

He had to protect his daughter! Abigail's daughter. They have to flee France and run to America, tonight!

Ivan knew one absolute as he ran, he would willingly go to hell and back to keep his Sunflower's Black Eyed Susan safe.

And Ivan prayed with all his might, that Abigail was with her family.


	12. Learn to be Lonely

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* * *

 _As Arthur was escorted out of the theatre, with the Russian nesting doll in his arms, he noticed the woman from before._

 _She stared at him with a hardness in his eyes. Like she could not forgive him for something._

 _Their gazes broke when her son took her arm and guided her away._

 _"Where to, sir?" His driver asked._

 _"The cemetery if you don't mind."_

 _The twenty minute drive felt longer than the last time he had gone. Which was about a little over twenty six years. He had been question with the police along with the other workers in the theatre, but no one had seamed to have an idea as to why Abigail drank poison the final night of the play._

 _Everyone was torn between murder and suicide._

 _On one hand, a jealous chorus girl or a fan who yearned for her love killed her in a rage. A tragic death of the love affair for the young star._

 _On the other hand, the pressure of being a star was getting to her and slowly pulling her under into despair. After all, did she not take long trips to Sweden for her health and come back tired and worn out?_

 _Those were just some of many theories pertaining to Abigail Oxenstierna's death._

 _And it killed Arthur a little inside with each one said._

 _"Would you like for me to escort you inside?" The driver asked._

 _"No, this is one meeting I would prefer to make unaccompanied."_

 _The driver handed him the doll._

 _"Thank you."_

 _Arthur walked past some of the graves._

 _Renee Bonnefoy died a few years ago from Tuberculosis._

 _Chiara died in childbirth with her third pregnancy._

 _Jean committed suicide a few days after Abigail's death._

 _It continued on for a few minutes until he came to the grave underneath the willow with an angel weeping at the gravestone._

Abigail Oxenstierna

 _Arthur dropped to his knees and wept._

 _He placed the doll on her gravestone and began to softly sing the song that Abigail stole his heart._

 _"Wishing you were somehow here again, wishing you are somehow near, sometimes it seamed if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here."_

 _"That a sad song. You know her?"_

 _Arthur was about to say something rude to the French girl when he realized that she didn't speak French as a first language. She must have though he was a local and tried to speak the language. He turned around to speak to the girl in the Queen's language when he just about had a heart attack._

 _It was his Abigail!_

 _No. She was not her. Although, she could have passed as her daughter._

 _But that was very unlikely._

 _She did not have vivid blue eyes like his darling Gayle. Her eyes were a lovely shade of purple instead. She had long curly blonde hair that was the same shade as his Gayle's. Around the same height, yes, but not his Gayle. She was not dressed in the French fashion, but looked a little American by the way she held her head high and stared at him, not backing down._

 _She held sunflowers in her hands._

"Yes, I knew her. She died very young." _Arthur said in English._

 _He could tell that she looked relieved because her eyes widened and a bright smile shone on her face._

 _She smiled just like her._

"It is always tragic when a young person dies. Especially if they were just beginning to live."

 _Arthur had no idea why this woman was here or who she was._

"Why are you here?"

"My father would always tell me a story about an angel and his star. He told me how the star led the angel out of darkness and how she saved him from insanity. But the sun came and destroyed her light and he never saw her again."

 _Arthur was appalled._ "That was your bedtime story?"

"That was one of the more dark ones. The more lighter ones were of a princess who fell in love with a dragon but a knight slaughtered the dragon."

"What kind of father did you have?"

"A damn good one."

"What of your mother? Surely she would have objected to such stories as those."

 _She looked down._

"My mother was murdered when I was young. The police have never caught the killer."

"I am sorry."

"It's not your doing I am sure." _She placed the flowers on the grave and left. "_ We all just need to learn to be lonely."

 _Arthur watched her and then turned to the flowers at the base of Abigail's gravestone. There was a note attached._

Dear mother,

Father died a few years ago. I am engaged to a man named Alfred F. Jones. You would like him. I have never met you not have memory or you, but I miss you every day. Father never remarried. My wedding is in three months. I hope you and father will be watching over us.

Love,

Anya Juneau Braginsky

 _Bloody hell._


	13. Wondering Child

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* * *

A young woman was waiting under a willow tree. She had been there waiting for twenty four years, never aging, never growing old.

She waited a long time.

A man walked down the dirt road. Searching for someone.

He walked until he reached the willow. Until he reached the woman.

She stood up and they just looked at each other. Hardly believing that the other was there.

They ran to each other's open arms and kissed.

It's ironic.

Death, who once separated them, now brought them back together.

The angel found his sunflower and they would not be separated again.


End file.
